Dance Till We Die
by akiaookami
Summary: Two blades, identical in shape and form, yet different simply in color. Their wielders are no exception to their blade's likeness in this deadly dance of blades. T for blood. Oneshot.


Ok! So, I got this idea while talking to my friends, ironically, about whether or not I should make another story for fanfiction. They kept telling me, "Make a one-shot! Make a one-shot!" While they were saying this, the idea for this story popped into my mind.

So without further ado, my first one-shot! Enjoy! Oh, and please leave comments!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda or any of its characters.

"Talking"

"_Thinking"_

"**Written messages**"

…**..….LINE-HERE….**

**Dance Till We Die**

Overview POV:

The clanking of sacred steel on cursed steel reverberates in the tense atmosphere. The noises are caused by the baring of one sword with another, each sword the so similar yet so different altogether, just like their wielders. Both swordsmen are agile swift, are strong and determined not to lose, are constantly calculating the other's possible next moves, thinking four steps ahead.

Their eyes both blaze with their own unique flames burning in their souls. If you were to be analyzing the one who wore a spectrum of colors, you would see the sky-blue flame that is constantly flickering while trying to one-up his opponent. But behind that fierce flame lies another, slowly growing in size, slowly invading the blue-eyed man's mind with its essence, the questions that the man so desperately wants answers from the man before him, dyed black and ghostly white.

The pale man's eyes held the same flames as the his adversary except for one striking difference. His eyes were red, a raging blood-colored red. Yet contrary to what most would assume, these red eyes that were the same shade as blood did not appear to harbor malice, envy, rage, bloodlust, or any kind of ill-intent. Instead, the first aspect that appeared through his focused gaze was his curiosity for the man standing before him. The pale man was so confused as to why this other that could have been his identical twin, had he not blood hair, tan skin and enthralling blue eyes, had not even given him the time to even acknowledge the other. Barely after registering that there was another presence in the room with him, the pale man had dived to the left, narrowly avoiding the cold steel of the other man's blade.

The blond man, having instinctively drawn his blade at the feeling another being in the room, was more than shocked to see the being had even the ability and comprehension to dodge his attack. Sparing a glance down to the tip of his blade, the blond man realizes that the enemy barely avoided it since he had most likely caught them off guard. The shock he was experiencing, he thought, could never be compared to any other kind he would experience in his lifetime. But his train of thought was flawed, because the biggest shock he experienced happened when he gazed upon the other being.

Link's POV:

I look up, my gaze shifting from the tip of the Master Sword to the owner of the blood I had drawn. I felt my eyes physically widen until they could not go any farther. The figure was crouched over, his left hand was pressing against the fresh wound on his left cheek while hissing slightly. He was down on his left knee, the only indication of his skin color was the pale, ghostly-white hand of his. His onyx locks, the same length at my own blond hair, fell freely in front of his face like bangs, effectively creating an overshadow so that one could not see his face. His clothes were identical to mine in every way, except for the color. All of his clothes from his cap to the tips of his boots were black, blacker than night, no, as black as shadows. He had the faintly visible tip of the outline of the triforce embedded on his hand as if it was but a birthmark. On his back was a shield, identical in shape and design to my own, and an empty sheath, identical to the Master Sword's sheath that lays on my own ba…., wait, empty?!

I jump backwards quickly dislodging the shield from my back as I immediately take a guarding stance, shield in front, sword coming across diagonally with the tip upwards incase I need to counter. I narrow my eyes as this almost-doppelganger stands at the sound of the water being disturbed. I watch him take the same stance I do, with the same look in his eyes. Except for one significant detail. Where my eyes are sky blue, his are red, but not just red, blood red. I feel my muscles tense as I take off towards this man who, now that I notice, also has the same face as me.

Dark's POV:

I hiss as I press my sword hand up against the stinging cut that graced my cheek just a mere few seconds before. I feel a fleetingly small amount of my blood slowly seep from the wound. "_Nothing serious, just a knick," _I think reassuredly to myself as my hand that had been inspecting the wound slowly trails up to grip the familiar hilt of my sword, it sending a small tingle through my arm showing recognition of me as it's wielder. As I draw my sword stealthily from its sheath, I watch the water that skims just a few inches over the bottom of the floor, more accurately, watching his movements through his reflection. I falter just slightly, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, as I see the assaulter's face. It is identical to mine, except his skin is not as bleached as mine, and his eyes are more of an elegant blue than that of the water here in this room. Mine, by contrast with his, are a much more alarming color. Mine are closer to that of a scarlet or blood red.

I notice the water ripple and that his reflection is no longer in my sights. I jump backwards, swiftly swinging the shield to the front of me, taking a stance from which it is easy to counter or defend against an opponent. To my surprise, he is standing in the exact same position I am. I take a brief moment to study him, gears turning in my brain as I start to realize who this mysterious person is exactly.

It is _him._ He just had to be, right? He looked nearly exactly like me, he had the same stance as me, he had the same look in his eyes as me. He was me. No. More accurately, I was him, his _shadow_. I was a crude copy of him, the original. I was never meant to exist, he was. I don't have a purpose in this world after this, he does. We are the same, yet we are polar opposites. We are one, yet we are separate. 'We' is a funny word, isn't it? It implies a sense of unity, a sense of belonging, or simply just another thing that is supposed to add meaning to one's life yet only add to the meaningless void.

I sidestep to the left as I throw my shield up, the sharp noise of metal on metal resounds in the room, along with the subtle splashing of water. I look back into those sky blue eyes, but instead of the curious and kind demeanor they had held just a mere second ago, they were now icy cold, full of hate and an instinct to crush their opponent.

I falter.

I shiver.

I scream.

I see the light of a kind man return to his eyes, before they are suddenly stricken with horror and confusion. His eyes slowly trail down from my own to where a strange numb feeling was ever growing over my chest. I follow his gaze. And I see the only other color that I have besides the black and white demeanor of my skin, hair and clothes. Red, blood red and a whole lot of it too. Accompanying the color that is almost an exact match to my eye color, is a large gash and the hilt of the other's sword. "_Wait, the hil- oh goddesses! He just ran me through with his sword!"_

I realize in my thoughts as the burning pain rushes through my veins, so intensely I immediately drop to my knees. Thankfully, the man let go as I was falling to keep the pain to a minimum. My hands give way, my own blade making a muffled clatter to the stone underneath the water. I drop to my hands and knees, but my arms soon give way at the same time that my attempt to hold back a wail as the pain overwhelms me.

I try desperately to at least prop myself up on my elbows, but that is a big mistake. This causes the hilt to touch the ground, moving the blade deeper into my body. Another wail rips through me as a move to fall on my side. I feel someone catch me before I hit the ground and then the searing pain of the sword being extracted from the slit through my body. My body turns around as the man pulls and tugs. I am eventually facing upwards, at some blurry object, as my breathing becomes extremely labored, the feeling of something appearing to flow into my esophagus. I see something move, I hear someone talking but I can't focus as I feel the life leave me through the hole in my chest. I barely have any strength last in my hands, but with what I have I snap my fingers.

The shadows envelope me. In what is really but two seconds but what feels like an eternity, the shadows rip, pull, tug, and mend the wound, forcing it closed. This is more painful than the initial wound. I grit my teeth, attempting to bear the onslaught of pain that assaults my nerves, but I give at the last burst of pain, the most painful one.

Opening my eyes, my body reappears in the room, ungraciously falling face first into the water, leaving me there in my, thank the goddesses, rapidly receding pain which eventually leaves only a throbbing ache where the blood had just been pouring out.

I lift myself from the ground slowly, reaching my hand back to my sheath where my trustworthy blade had gone when I had lost it. My hand on the hilt, I stand straight looking my counterpart dead in the eyes. As I draw my sword and shield, it hits me.

What we are doing here, is nothing more than a calculated dance, one wrong step and it will fall into disarray. Yet we do not dance for an audience, no. We dance for ourselves, to prove to ourselves that we are living, that we this is real and not just a nightmare that doesn't let us wake up. In our dancing we express our pain and our burdens that life has tacked onto us, that the world has placed upon our shoulders. And, most importantly, we dance to forget. To lose the worry, the troubles, the burdens and pains that are forced on us. We dance to free ourselves even if it is only for a few minutes or a few fleeting seconds. But we will dance this dance for as long as the other remains. Both of us, standing on the edges of the other's blade, will dance till we die.

…_**.BREAK,,,,,,,,,**_

OK! So that was my first oneshot! Please let me know what you guys think about this or if you see any typos or anything or simply have something to say, I appreciate every review that I get. No, seriously! I turn into a five year old jumping around a room like they were just given a five-foot long candy bar!

*Cough, Cough* umm, ok, with that awkwardness aside….

Until next time!


End file.
